


It's Called Dating

by grimcognito



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where things don’t go to hell with actual murder, and they all get happy lives, here are some drabbles and timestamps of Connor and the cute IT guy, Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen the pilot episode so far, but I'm hoping I'm not the only one who thought they'd make a cute couple.

It took Connor until their fifth hook-up to realize he was done for. Considering this last 'hook-up' was a pleasant two hours spend chatting in a coffee shop over two very different drinks, he should have seen this coming from miles away. Jesus, he was _smiling to himself_ as he walked into class at the memory of a goddamn latte and a too-wide smile and thick glasses.

He sank down into this chair and covered his face with one hand. "Shit." 

There was a familiar laugh nearby and Connor casually curled down three of his fingers and left the last to show Wes exactly how much he appreciated the humor. The badly whispered and definitely smug, "Pay up" caught his attention though, and he dropped his hand to see Laurel slap a twenty into Wes' hand with a disgruntled expression. 

"What the hell is that all about?" 

Laurel looked at him, unimpressed, and boy did he suddenly miss the more hesitant and shy version of her from the beginning of the semester. "I'm surprised you noticed it. Couldn't you have had this little epiphany yesterday?"

What the hell did he have to do with her losing her own damn mon-- "You were making bets on this!?" He jabbed a finger in Wes' direction and earned a megawatt grin in response. 

"You were mooning, man. It was kind of gross in the most adorable and hilarious way. We needed some way to entertain ourselves while you sighed and daydreamed."

Connor let himself imagine how good it would feel to bean Wes right in the face with his half-full coffee cup. He narrowed his eyes and sneered instead, refusing to ask how they knew so much about his personal life and what exactly Wes meant by him mooning. There's no way he'd been obvious. None. Hell, _he_ hadn't known he was mooning, so how could they?

"Just a tip," Wes leaned to the side to whisper, just as Professor Keating walked in, "your poker face sucks when you're thinking about your boyfriend."

Connor bit back his reply as Professor Keating took command of the room, eyes sharp for anyone dumb enough to interrupt, and instead opened his notes to the correct page with one last withering glare at Wes.


	2. Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Connor have moved in together and Oliver wants to make a good impression on Connor's coworkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working with the assumption that Oliver is IT Guy's name, though if I am wrong I'll edit it later.

Muffled curses were the first thing Connor heard as he walked into his apartment. He wandered in that direction, curious as to what had Oliver, who was usually so careful with words, so frustrated. Maybe the tailored suit he’d gotten had been sized incorrectly? 

He found Oliver in the bathroom, in dress pants and an undershirt, squinting with watery eyes down at a small container in his hand as he dropped something small into it.. 

"Are those contacts?" Connor asked, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it carelessly over the towel bar. It was due for a dry-cleaning anyway. 

Oliver jumped and nearly dropped the contacts case. He spun around and squinted at Connor, who pretended it wasn't completely endearing. "Yeah. I wanted to look nice since I'm going to that fancy work party of yours. Can't go around in my coke-bottle glasses and make you look bad."

"You hate contacts. Your eyes get watery just thinking about putting them in." Connor pointed out, deciding it would be easier to build up to correcting everything wrong with what Oliver was implying. 

Oliver shrugged, tapping the little case with a fingertip absently. "Better than walking into walls or knocking over stuff because I can't see."

"Well here's a groundbreaking notion; just wear your glasses." Connor picked up said glasses and carefully slipped them onto Oliver's face, smiling when he reached up to adjust them automatically. 

"But they're really dorky." 

"Yes they are." Connor agreed, nodding sagely. Then laughed as Oliver huffed and moved to get by him. Connor caught him with an arm around the waist and tugged him in close, kissing his cheek in apology even as he kept smiling. "But you make them look good."

"You're an ass." 

Connor just laughed softly and distracted Oliver with more kisses as he took the contacts case and dropped it back on the bathroom counter. He led Oliver back into the bedroom, herding him backwards until his knees hit the edge of their bed and he dropped down to sit. Connor crawled up over him, knees to either side of his hips and held Oliver's face between his hands. "Hey, gorgeous."

There was his favorite blush. A hint of pink right across those high cheekbones and up to the tips of Oliver's ears. And that crooked smile that meant Oliver was onto his tricks but was letting him get away with it anyway. "Are you seriously trying to sweet talk me into looking bad at your work party?"

"First of all, you always look good," Connor stated with a smirk, running his hands down Oliver's chest. "And secondly, is it working?"

Oliver laughed, tipping his head back as Connor trailed open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “Maybe a little.” 

Connor slipped one hand up his shirt and Oliver licked his lips. “Maybe a lot.”

They were late to the party.


	3. Second Chances (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just saw the second episode and needed to write something for it because it was just the perfect set-up and I love that it showed Oliver with some spine, which was awesome. Also, smut. Just sayin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta-ed so please point out any grammar or spelling issues, thanks! And a huge thank you to everyone who has read and kudo-ed and commented so far, y'all are awesome and I appreciate it!

“I. Am not. Your personal. Lackey.”

Connor’s eyes nearly rolled back as Oliver punctuated his words with hard, driving thrusts. One hand was curled under his knee, keeping it bent, the other was braced in the sheets to the side of his head, lean lines of muscle tensing and shifting as he carefully, forcefully drove Connor out of his mind. 

Apparently angry sex-discussions about boundaries really did it for him. New things every day. He nodded quickly and too many times, probably looking like an idiot but he was too busy hiking his free leg higher over Oliver’s thigh and trying to tilt his hips for an even better angle to care. Each thrust was punching out little breathy noises from him that he had no control over, not that he was in much of a mind to try anyway. He curled his fingers in Oliver’s hair, his other hand clutching at Oliver’s sweat-slick back, trying to find purchase. 

He let out a needy sound he’d forever deny when Oliver slowed almost to a stop. Oliver leaned in closer, his weight pressing Connor’s knee almost to his chest and pushed him in at a new angle that had Connor dropping his head back with a low moan, toes curling, and a damp trail of precome where his cock rubbed against his abdomen.

Then Oliver stopped, hips flush against him, and Connor didn’t have the leverage to do anything. “Tell me you understand that. That I’m not someone you can just charm and get what you need for your job. Because I won’t be.”

His eyes were dark and serious, body holding him in place with surprising strength and ease, and Connor shivered, nearly aching with how much he wanted him. He swallowed, wondered what the hell he was doing making a promise that felt like a commitment. All he knew was that he didn’t want to miss out on this, didn’t want to feel like he had after Oliver had hung up on him, when he’d shut the door in his face. 

It still took him a moment to put together actual words, because, holy shit, Oliver was pressed up in him in all the best ways and it was a hell of a distraction. “I understand.” He tried to ignore how wrecked his voice sounded.

Sharp eyes, able to see fine this close despite the lack of glasses, watched his expression carefully. Whatever he was looking for, Oliver seemed to find. “This might just be a game for you, but I don’t like being played with. We can finish tonight and part ways or we can do this right. Think about that and let me know when you figure out what you want.” He kissed Connor, not with his familiar hesitance or shyness, but like he was making a claim. By the time he pulled back, hips moving once more, Connor lay there, gasping and writhing under him, demanding more even as he wondered how the hell he’d so completely lost control. He wondered if he could make it happen again without having to piss off Oliver first.

It wasn’t until later, when they were sitting on rumpled sheets in their underwear and eating lukewarm take-out, that he realized he did want it to happen again. Wanted to keep seeing Oliver, who kept surprising him with each encounter. Who knew the shy guy practically projecting awkward-virgin vibes was a pro kisser, or that he could go from amazingly responsive and pliant underneath him, to holy-shit-hot and commanding? 

And despite first impressions, Oliver made it clear he wasn’t about to be someone’s doormat, and that just made Connor want him more. Which, damn, meant he needed to come clean. 

He set down his chopsticks and sighed. Oliver lowered his own and eyed him warily, then looked down and shrugged one shoulder, speaking up before Connor could. “Look, I get it. You just needed--”

“I work for a law firm.” Connor blurted out, cutting him off. It worked though. Oliver looked up, that dejected expression shifting to one of confusion. Connor held up a hand and continued, “I lied that first night, and honestly, I wasn’t going to do more than flirt and get the information I needed. That was supposed to be it.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, voice dry and unimpressed. “You trying to tell me I was too good for you to walk away?”

Connor just shrugged, deciding he might as well be honest. “Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

Connor grinned. “Despite how it must seem, I really don’t sleep around all that much, and it’d take more than an email for me to do all the things I did to you that night.” Oliver’s cheeks went red and Connor just grinned wider. “That wasn’t a bribe, I just really wanted to. So yeah, I think you’re pretty hot.”

That seemed to throw Oliver off his game a bit and he stared at Connor for a few seconds before pulling himself together. “So, you needed information, and pretended to work at the bank. I guess it makes sense, though if there was anything else you lied about, might as well tell me now.”

Connor took another bite of food and thought about it. “Actually, that was mostly it. My boss, she really is my boss since I’m a law student and she picked me and a few others to intern at her firm. She’s still a hardass and I really did need that information.”

Oliver made a thoughtful noise and poked at his food. “And everything you asked me to do last time? That was for a case?”

“Yes. They’re actual cases the firm is handling so I’m not allowed to give details, but it helped us win. That’s what I was working on when I called you.” Connor didn’t notice he was holding his breath until Oliver gave a slow nod and a tight ball of unease loosened in his chest. 

“Okay. Okay, I’ll take your word on it, but I was serious. I can’t keep digging up things for you. I could lose my job. Hell, I could go to jail if it’s bad enough.” He looked up at Connor, the corners of his mouth tight like he was trying not to frown. “So you can go ahead and seduce some other unsuspecting and desperate IT tech.”

Connor licked his lips, tasting the sauce from his chicken and broccoli. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

That startled a smile out of Oliver, who ducked his head as if that could hide it. “Okay.”

“I can tell you about the world’s most awkward murder scenario I had to act out, though.” He shuddered and Oliver huffed a short laugh, motioning for Connor to go on as he took a bite of food, smiling around his chopsticks. 

In the end, Oliver nearly choked on his food laughing, and it was a damn good night.


	4. No Way (Got To Be Made Up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver's coworkers refuse to believe he can catch a boyfriend. 
> 
> I know there's more than two others, but I figure they're the closest friends in a larger group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's been so kind as to leave comments and kudos and you're all so nice and awesome! *hugs you all* I make no promises as to how fast I update, so apologies in advance! I tend to slam through several stories then wither up and dry out for weeks. I'll ride this wave long as I can though! 
> 
> And feel free to drop any prompts for this pair at my tumblr (paper-kraken.tumblr.com) to give me some new ideas!

“Look man, we get it, you got laid by a hot guy. But you can’t keep pretending he’s actually dating you.” Will said, rolling his eyes as he leaned a hip against the counter in the breakroom. 

Oliver went pink in the face and frowned sharply. “I’m not! Why the hell would I make that up?”

Will just raised an eyebrow at him. “You know as well as I do that the status quo from high school still applies to people like us.” He waved a hand between them, and Oliver had to agree with that at least. Their group was pretty much the definition of tech geek, glasses, button-ups, khakis that somehow always looked unflattering. “They look at us and the first thing they think is ‘bet he owns a pocket protector.’ Yeah, real sexy.” 

Snorting, because Will always made things sound more dramatic than they were, Oliver shrugged. “Maybe, but apparently Connor likes it.”

Will just side-eyed him with obvious disbelief. “Right. Sure.”

Oliver sighed, picked up his coffee and retreated back to his cubicle. 

\----

Terry was just as bad, though instead of loudly accusing him of making up a boyfriend, he’d try to sneak in ideas about going to bars and finding someone else to think about. Did all of his friends think he was really that incapable of dating? It was kind of insulting, until he remembered he barely knew why Connor kept coming back the first few weeks of their relationship. 

Still, the point stood, that he was not amused when his friends kept nudging him toward random men. 

“Guys, stop trying to get me over there, you’re probably freaking the poor man out with your creepy group stare.” He stubbornly refused to move from his seat and took a slow drag of his beer while glaring at his friends. 

Terry sighed, but it was Will who spoke up. “Maybe if you stopped waiting for that guy of your to show up, you could have some fun.” 

Oliver groaned and set his beer down with a thump. “You guys are the worst. I have a boyfriend who is not made up. He is working, and I’m not going to demand he comes down here so my asshole friends know he’s real. Now, can we please drop it? Besides if you think that man over there is such a catch you can go talk to him.” 

While it was clear no one believed him, at least they finally switched back to their regular chatter and stopped trying to shove him off his stool every time a man with a suit came in. 

\-----

It was a few weeks later, when all three of them were puzzling through the cause of a system-wide issue that was proving troublesome, that it happened. Will had wandered off to grab them coffee while Terry took the brunt of complaint emails and phone calls and Oliver dissected code to find the issue. 

Their office wasn’t very big, the breakroom just behind a wall next to it, so it was easy to hear the, “Is Oliver here?” in a familiar voice. 

His head snapped up and he looked over to see Will pointing in his direction with wide eyes and a shocked expression. Oliver would laugh, and maybe throw in a ‘told you so’ like he was in middle school, but he was too busy being surprised himself. Grinning, he stood and hoped he didn’t look too rumpled from staying overnight in the office. “Connor? What are you doing here?”

“Hey gorgeous. We finished our case yesterday, I was hoping to see you. You said you’d be really busy though, so I brought you some lunch.” Connor held up the bag of take-out and Oliver was reminded of their first almost-date. He had no idea how Connor managed to look both smug and a little shy at the same time. 

Terry made a choked noise behind him and Oliver bit back a laugh even as his face went warm at the casual compliment. “Yeah, sorry, there’s something off in our system and it’s been a pain to find. Lunch would be fantastic, though. I’m due for a break.” It was true, the problem was an annoyance, but nothing that actually affected the programs used for company projects. Will could take over where he’d left off for a half hour in return for all the times he’d accused of Connor being imaginary. 

Connor smiled like he knew exactly what was going on and motioned back toward the door. “Perfect. I got your favorites from that Ethiopian place.”

Oliver grinned at his friends’ expressions, wishing he had a camera, then followed his- very real -boyfriend out the door.


	5. Sauce and Slander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a request from theexsistencegame asking for the guys making dinner, so here you go, hope you like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the super nice comments and to everyone who has read this silly little series, you're all fantastic! I'll try to reply to them soon!

“Good God, you’re terrible at this.” 

Connor scowled at Oliver, who had the audacity to stand there and insult his chopping skills with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Well excuse me for not making perfect cubes out of this tomato, you ass. It’s overripe and keeps squishing when I try to cut.”

With a little doubtful humming noise, Oliver took the knife from Connor and deftly sliced the second half of the tomato into neat sections. “Mmhm, yes, I see it now. Very squishy.” Oh, someone sure thought they were a comedian today. 

“Shut up.” Connor said, fighting to keep his sneer from curling into a smile as Oliver’s badly hidden huff of laughter. “I call foul play.”

Oliver snorted, elbowing Connor gently in the ribs as he slid the tomato chunks into a pan where they landed with a sizzle against the hot oil. The kitchen already smelled like garlic and basil and whatever else Oliver had thrown into the pan, blending together deliciously. “Whatever, fancy lawyer man. You’re just grumpy because I now know you can’t chop vegetables to save your life.”

“I only messed up one vegetable, that’s hardly grounds for this kind of slander.” Connor argued back. Oliver just looked over his shoulder to the sad pile of mangled carrots that were supposed to go in their salad and Connor cleared his throat as he quickly brushed them into the pile of peels and scraps on the edge of the cutting board. He pointedly ignored the way Oliver’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as he stirred the cooking tomatoes. Connor slid his arms around Oliver’s waist, pressing a smile against the curve of his neck when Oliver leaned back slightly into him. “I could sue you for sullying my reputation.”

That got him a laugh and Connor smiled wider as he felt it under his hands as well as heard it. Oliver had the most infectious laugh, and Connor had zero immunity to it, it really was going to ruin his standoffish asshole persona if anyone he worked with found out. 

“I dunno, I’ve got this really great lawyer who thinks I’m sexy. I’m pretty sure he’d defend me in court.” Oliver said with a serious voice, though his eyes were bright with humor as he tilted his head to glance at Connor. 

“Oh, really now? The guy clearly hasn’t seen you all Genghis Khan in the kitchen yet.” Connor shakes his head, like he’s feeling sorry for the poor soul that is his imaginary self. 

Oliver laughed harder than before and slapped away Connor’s wandering hands. “Go put the pasta in the water, drama queen. I’m sure you can handle that without threatening it with a lawsuit. I've got a sauce to conquer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr (paper-kraken.tumblr.com) and drop a prompt or say hi!


	6. Blame the Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I blame this post: http://paper-kraken.tumblr.com/post/99527776554/the-misconception-that-an-out-actor-cant-play-a  
> All I can think is that Oliver needs to always be happy and wearing stupidly comfy-looking sweaters and it gives Connor feelings. I have a mighty need for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has stopped by to give me prompts! I love them all and I'll be writing them, so if you're worried I skipped you, I'm just slow, I promise! ;D

Connor would be the first to agree that Oliver’s glasses are about as unsexy as it gets. Oliver has a gorgeous face, and he had to go and hide half of it under those thick-rimmed, coke-bottle, circle glasses. Oliver had laughed when Connor grumbled about them, admitting that they were his back-up pair until he found some new ones he liked. The problem was that Oliver was easily distracted by work and chores and bills and kept forgetting to look for new frames. Connor just shook his head, amused at how short Oliver’s attention span could be when he wasn’t focused on a specific task. 

He also discovered Oliver’s eyesight really was atrocious, nearly going cross-eyed when he stole Oliver’s glasses and slipped them on himself. It made working long hours on computers a bit hard, Oliver had admitted, often leading to headaches. Which meant he had a habit of ditching them next to his computer at home sometimes, and would spend a couple of hours lounging on the couch listening to his stereo, sometimes with a mug in hand or a late dinner. 

Connor had only seen it once or twice, and each time ended up staring openly at Oliver’s relaxed face even as he cracked a joke or two about learning echolocation to avoid walls. That had earned him a surprisingly well-aimed pillow to the face. 

The staring though, he couldn’t help it. Oliver usually scrunched up his whole face with squinting when he took off his glasses, or was busy making different expressions while they had sex, but when he relaxed, not bothering to try and see without them, he looked completely different. 

That’s where he found himself now, eyeing Oliver up and down when the door opens and Oliver motions him in. “Hey, sorry I’m a bit late, we were hunting down some evidence that wouldn’t immediately get thrown out for being insubstantial. Took way longer than it should have.” He said distractedly, too busy wondering if the thick cream-colored sweater Oliver was wearing was half as soft as it looked. He was suddenly torn between wanting to have sex with him or crawl on top of him for a nap. 

Oliver shrugged one shoulder, lips tilted into a half-smile as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “No worries, I just finished up a project so it worked out.” He ran a hand through his hair, which looked soft without any product to keep it in place and Connor suddenly wanted to touch it too. His fingers twitched and he wondered which would be worse, this ridiculous--and disturbingly domestic--warm feeling in his chest, or going to find Oliver’s awful glasses and making him put them back on. 

Wait, Oliver was still talking. “What was that?”

Oliver snorted. “You must be more tired than I thought. I asked if you wanted something to eat.”

No, he didn’t want to eat, he wanted to lay down on this couch and maybe lay all over Oliver and his stupid, comfy-looking sweater. 

Oliver let out a surprised little laugh and Connor shut his mouth with a click of teeth. He really hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Oliver was squinting now, like he wanted to see Connor’s face to tell if he was serious, but he was smiling and Connor figured he didn’t have much to lose. 

“Um, okay, we can do that too.” Oliver said, taking Connor’s hand and tugging him down onto the couch where they shifted around rearranged their limbs until Connor was comfortably draped over Oliver, and yes, the damn sweater was just as sinfully soft as it looked, even better wrapped around a relaxed and happy Oliver. Who was quietly laughing at him as he planted his face into the fabric and hummed. “Didn’t expect you to be the cuddly type.”

He wasn’t, not really. Connor blamed Oliver for all these ~feelings~ that had cropped up in him like little parasites. “I’m not.” he grumped, words muffled and effect ruined by the way he just held Oliver closer, refusing to budge. 

“If you say so.” Oliver said, amused, but let it drop, apparently content with couch cuddling. A hand pet over Connor’s hair and he mumbled wordlessly against Oliver’s chest, and he really must have been more tired than he realised, because he was already drowsy and unwilling to move. 

“Nap first, then a late dinner?” Oliver offered, and Connor swore the man was a mind-reader. 

“Hell yes, and then I’m going to fuck you while you wear this sweater, because what the hell, you look like a domestic porn star, I swear.” 

Oliver choked on a startled laugh. “A what? I don’t even--go to sleep, Connor.”

Connor just snickered and patted Oliver’s side consolingly, then got distracted petting it instead. Oliver would understand soon enough, Connor would make sure of it.

......................

Bonus: Look at this man, seriously, no wonder Connor's completely gone on him.


	7. Maundy Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt from bayaningbituon: just found out that the guy who plays oliver is filipino... would you consider putting that in a little ficlet? :)
> 
> Hope this fits the bill for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone unfamiliar with it, Maundy Thursday is part of the Holy Week in the Philippines, also including Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday. Please feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong regarding the holiday, thanks! And if you want to drop a prompt and don't mind that I'm a bit slow at answering, please stop by! (paper-kraken.tumblr.com)

Oliver arched up against Connor, fingers buried in his hair as they kissed frantically. Almost two weeks apart and Oliver would be worried about how much he missed this man but he was too busy curling a leg over his hip and pulling him closer. Connor had been there for all of five minutes before they were rolling around in bed and Oliver couldn’t find any reason to protest that. At least until Connor’s hands were dragging down the dip of his hip bones and about to make all sorts of fantastically awesome friction, and the day’s date flashed in his mind. 

“Crap! Sorry, I can’t--we gotta stop.” Oliver gritted out, immediately regretting the loss of those warm hands as Connor pulled back, looking worried. 

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

Oliver nodded, though his face probably wasn’t very convincing. He dropped his leg from around Connor’s hip and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes, yeah, I’m fine. I just kind of… forgot the date once I saw you.”

Connor frowned, confused. “The date?”

“Yeah, it’s Maundy Thursday.” He said with a sigh, his hand flopping to the side and he stared sadly down at the space between his sprawled body and where Connor was braced above him. He was close enough to feel waves of gentle heat from Connor’s body and he licked his lips as he made himself drag his gaze back up again. No use getting worked up, he’d just be extra frustrated later. “No alcohol, no meat, and no sex.” 

Connor stared down at him. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

So close, Connor was _right there_ , but Oliver could already hear the lecture from his mother forming in his head. Even if he was tempted to toss his cares to the wind, that was enough to start killing his mood. “I wish.”

Connor groaned and dropped his head to Oliver’s shoulder, not bothering to turn, so his word’s were slightly muffled. “Isn’t that supposed to be on a Friday or something?”

Oliver patted his hip, then moved his hand away before he was tempted to let it wander. “Holy week in the Philippines. My family isn’t too religious, but we’re a bit old school for the bigger holidays. Just be glad I don’t have to go visit seven churches.”

A sad groan into his shoulder. “Tomorrow?”

Cursing bad timing between their schedules and the calendar, Oliver shook his head. “Saturday. We’ll do whatever you want on Saturday.”

Connor raised his head to smirk down at Oliver. “Anything i want? You sure you want to offer that the day before Easter?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes right back. “You want to wait until Monday?”

“Saturday’s good.” Connor said quickly, and Oliver was glad to see he wasn’t the only one who seemed a bit desperate. “Do you at least get to feast or something to make up for the lack of sex?”

Oliver huffed a laugh. “If you come with me on Sunday my mom will try to feed you your weight in food.” He froze, the weight of what he just said hitting him and he could smack himself. Connor was dodgy about commitment at the best of times, despite the fact that they were monogamous in this not-quite-relationship and had been for a few months now. Talk about a bad time to offer to meet the family. 

Connor had gone still as well, staring at Oliver with wide eyes. Bit the corner of his lip as his eyebrows furrowed and Oliver opened his mouth to take the offer back, to play it off as a joke, but Connor spoke up first. “They’d be okay with you bringing a boyfriend over for Easter?”

Oliver felt the air rush out of him like he’d been sucker-punched and for a second neither of them moved. Then he found himself grinning so wide it almost hurt and Connor was aiming for stoic but the way his ears turned red gave him away. “Y-yeah. They would.”

He was so happy he could burst and he couldn’t stop smiling. Connor was no better from the looks of it, though he tried to duck his head to hide his smile. It wasn’t working. “You sure? Sounds like your mom may just be plotting my death through food.”

“No, she does it to me too. And she’ll tell you that the ginataang gulay and lumpia are secret family recipes but I know she printed them from online.” 

Connor’s eyes flicked flicked back and forth, intent on Oliver’s expression and his mouth quirked up in that half-smirking smile he had. “So, you gonna take me home to meet the family?”

Oliver took a steadying breath, running his hands over the curve of Connor’s shoulders. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to.” Connor said, dipping down to kiss Oliver, warm and slick and perfect, before rolling off of him and onto his back beside Oliver. “The no sex thing sucks though.”

Oliver laughed. “Hell yes it does. And we better go do something that does not involve being on my bed because that’ll just lead to things and I swear my mom will somehow _know_ and she’ll give me those _looks_ and--stop laughing!”

Connor did stop laughing, eventually, then dragged him out of bed and into the kitchen to browse take-out menus and argue over which place had the best cheese pizza.


	8. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Oliver being introduced to the crew as Connor's boyfriend. I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little off my game, folks, (I'm not super happy with this one, but it wasn't getting any better so I figured I'd be done with it :P) but I've got lots of fantastic prompts that I'll be working on, so thanks for everyone who stopped by to send one! 
> 
> Please note that this series in particular is dedicated to happy fics, so fluffy prompts tend to get written much faster. When I get around to some of the angsty prompts they'll be a separate series.

Connor reached into his bag for his folder of case notes. Between active cases, they all still had their classwork to do, and it was easier to just stick together to work on it as a group. Michaela already had hers out, with little stick-on, color coded tabs and sections carefully highlighted. Laurel’s had scrawled little notes in the margins. Wes continued to look like an earnestly intent puppy despite proving himself rather cunning when it came to cases, pencil held between his teeth as he flipped through his notebook. Asher kept his legal pad in a truly pretentious leather case, as if anyone cared. 

Snorting as he saw Asher flourish a fountain pen, he checked the other pocket of his bag, but his folder was missing. “Shit.” 

“What’s wrong?” Laurel asked, looking over at him from her corner of the library table. 

He sat back in his chair and frowned, trying to remember where he might have left them. “My case notes. I know I didn’t leave them at the office last time, but they’re not in my bag.” His bag. That he’d brought with him to Oliver’s apartment. That he’d emptied because the tickets he’d gotten for the play they went to had slipped to the bottom. “Nevermind, I know where I left them.”

Asher frowned. “We’ll be mostly done by the time you get back from your place.”

Connor side-eyed him and hoped Oliver was already home from work as he called, hearing it ring two, three times before Oliver answered, sounding pleased. “Hi, Connor, what’s up?”

Connor fought down a smile, but was failing if Michaela’s sudden sharp interest was any indication. “Hey, I left some notes at your place last night. I need them for my study group, do you think you could bring them over? That or I can come pick them up.”

Asher snorted. “If he goes over there, he’s probably not coming back anytime soon.” The idiot was talking to Laurel, again, who was giving him a vaguely disgusted look, as per usual. Connor just sneered at him. 

“No, that’s alright, I can bring them over. See you in fifteen?” Oliver asked. He sounded calm and content and after a week of their last case running them into the ground, Connor could listen to the man read a dictionary and it would be relaxing. 

“Perfect, thank you. See you soon. I’ll text you the address.” He set his phone down after doing so and flipped to a blank page in his notebook. “Problem solved. Go ahead and start, I can remember enough to keep up.”

They had gotten a decent way through when Connor spotted Oliver walking by. He stood and caught Oliver’s attention, waving him over with a smile. “Oliver.”

Michaela had lost interest in his conversation after the phone call ended, but now he could see the slow smirk lifting the edge of her mouth and the unsubtle facial conversation going on between her and Laurel. But that could wait because Oliver was right here, dressed casually in another one of those plain t-shirts that should look boring but instead seemed soft and touchable. And he was smiling, nudging his newer (and much more flattering) glasses into place as he handed over the folder. 

“No problem.” Oliver shrugged, then looked to everyone else with a shy smile and a little wave that had Connor biting his cheek to hold back a smile, settling for his usual smirk instead. 

“Oliver, these are the assholes I work with.” Laurel let out a surprised laugh, Asher looked almost proud of the title, Wes looked amused, and Michaela should be glaring but she was looking far too pleased and it was making Connor suspicious. He motioned at each of them in turn. “Wes, Laurel, Michaela and Asher. Don’t trust a single one of them. Especially that one.” he pointed at Wes, who just rolled his eyes and held out a hand for Oliver to take. 

“Nice to meet you. Oliver, right?” Wes asked. 

Oliver nodded, and there was a quick round of handshakes and politeness before Oliver stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay or escape. “I’m free tonight, if you want to get some dinner after this?” 

Already flipping through his case notes and finding points they hadn’t discussed yet, Connor glanced up and nodded. “Sure thing, we won’t be long if you want to wait for a bit.” 

Oliver smiled, bright and happy. “I’ll go and browse around, text me when you’re ready to go. Nice to meet you all,” he added to the rest of them, then turned and left. 

Soon as he was gone, Michaela snapped her attention to Connor like a shark to bleeding prey. “You have a thing for guys named Oliver, or is this the same one from, oh, I don’t know, two months ago? That’s an awful long time for someone who ‘doesn’t do boyfriends’.”

Connor waved pointedly at the unfinished homework but it was clear they wanted to know about his personal life instead, and he sighed. “Yes, same Oliver, and yes, he’s my boyfriend. In my defense though, he wasn’t at the time.” 

Laurel coughed like she was covering up a laugh. “If you say so.” Connor narrowed his eyes at that but she was quick to move on, though the badly-hidden grins were obvious on both her and Michaela’s faces. 

Wes shook his head and patted Connor on the shoulder like Connor had missed on something obvious--what the hell, he hadn’t even been there at the time--and Asher kept writing for a few seconds before he stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute, that nerd is the guy you’ve been sighing over for weeks? Seriously?”

Connor kicked him hard under the table. “Shut up and give me a good reason for our client having possession of the murder weapon that doesn’t land him in jail.”


	9. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dreamofuniverses asked: "Just saw the most recent episode of How to Get Away With Murder, and I'm still stuck on the fact that Connor went to an all boys boarding school in New Hampshire. Could you please write something about Oliver finding out this very interesting fact?"
> 
> Just some silly fun, hope you enjoy!

“You look like such a little douche!” Oliver laughed, sprawled on the bed and nearly in tears. Connor huffed and tried to steal the old yearbook away but Oliver clutched it closer to himself. “Did,” more laughing, “did you wear sweaters tied around your shoulders?”

“I hate you.” Connor said, though his smile gave him away. Damn Oliver’s infectious laugh, anyone else would have been sneered or glared at and cut down sharply. “I’m never sharing any of my childhood with you again.”

“No, no! Please, I’m sorry,” Oliver wiped his eyes, still snickering and not looking sorry at all, “I promise. I won’t make fun of your sweater vest.” He bit his lip, shoulders trembling. “Or your ascot.” 

Connor sighed as Oliver buried his face in a pillow and kept laughing. “Never again.” 

He never should have told Oliver he went to a boarding school, much less offered to show pictures. He did have to admit though, the outfit they’d been required to wear for the pictures was a bit… awful. The expression he’d thought was so suave at the time, but just came off as teenage swarminess didn’t help things. 

Oliver finally got himself under control and grabbed Connor, moving the book aside and manhandling him closer. “You were adorable, though if we met as teens I might have hated you.” 

Pretending to still be grumpy, Connor sniffed and turned his head away, leaving Oliver to kiss his cheek. Oliver just pulled him in tighter and trailed light kisses over the side of his face and down his neck. “If it makes you feel any better, my yearbook pictures are a hundred times worse.”

Connor turned his head to look at him, eyes narrow. “I’m going to need some proof to back up that claim. There better be braces. And a bowl cut.” 

This time it was Oliver who rolled away, grinning even as he groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “Thank God it wasn’t _that_ bad. I did have a really unfortunate goth phase though.” He winced.

Connor slowly looked over at him, pressing his lips together as he fought a smile. “You’re kidding me.”

Oliver looked pained. “I wish. Have you ever seen a hardcore nerd try to go goth? It was bad. There were black and white stripes. I thought it was _cool_.” 

“I demand evidence. You better have a picture of that.” Connor said, he could already imagine it, and it was hilariously terrible in all the best ways. He was hoping for some second-hand embarrassment here. 

Oliver groaned again and rolled out of the bed like it was the last thing he wanted to do, made his reluctant way to the bookshelf and pulled out one tall volume. He held it like he was contemplating throwing it out the window and Connor made impatient motions for Oliver to get his ass back to bed right-damn-now. 

“Oh no, you got to laugh at mine, I can’t wait to see this.” 

With one last, longing look at the four-story drop out his window, Oliver brought the book over and Connor snatched it up, flipping pages with glee until he found the right picture. 

Oliver dropped his face into his hands and Connor laughed so hard he started wheezing.


	10. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt for 'date night' so here it is! Somehow I managed to write everything but the actual date, but hopefully you folks don't mind ;D

Dating. Oliver thought about it a lot, about whether or not what he and Connor had going on counted. It did, right? They ate together, they weren’t sleeping with other people (he’d made that one pretty clear a few weeks in and Connor had agreed), they sometimes spent the night together. It was… kind of dating. It was something. 

As much as he loved what had become their favorite food spots, Oliver thought about sitting down in a proper restaurant, maybe a little dressed up, some flirting over a meal, arguing over the tab. He thought it might be nice to go back to the step they’d completely bypassed in their relationship. Despite Connor’s apparent fear of giving it a name, that’s definitely what this was. 

He waited until they had finished their food, and were both enjoying the quiet company. Oliver was trying (and failing) to read a book, finally giving up after reading the same page three times and still having no idea what it said. He looked up to see Connor lazily scrolling on his laptop across the couch. Licked his lips and glanced between his book and Connor, then back again. Shifted his weight a bit on the couch as he tried to word his request properly. Opened his mouth and shut it again. 

Connor sighed and looked at him. “What’s got you so worked up you can’t sit still?”

Oliver froze. “Nothing.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug when Connor raised an eyebrow and looked unimpressed. “Okay, maybe something.”

Connor set his laptop on the coffee table and turned toward Oliver, draping one arm across the back of the couch. “Come on, spit it out, then.” 

“Do you think we could go out to dinner sometime?” He blurted out. Waved his hands when Connor glanced at the take-out boxes, looking confused. “Not today! I mean, y’know, actually go out and sit down at a nice place. See something more interesting than either of our living rooms?” 

“You want to go out on a date.” It wasn’t even a question, and Connor’s tone was flat. 

Biting his lip, Oliver stared down at his book instead of whatever expression Connor had right then. “I think it would be nice.” He hadn’t expected Connor to leap at the idea, but he could be a little more enthusiastic. 

“Okay.” 

Oliver looked up, eyes wide. “Really? You’d want to?”

“Yeah,” Connor looked like he was thinking the idea over, watching Oliver with a thoughtful expression. “I’d like that. Next Friday? I can find us a nice place to go.”

“Okay.” Oliver said, smiling wide and most definitely not tackling Connor with a hug, no matter how much he wanted to. “Next Friday it is.”

……………………

The next Friday, Connor was maybe, possibly, a little bit nervous. He threw a disgusted look at his bed, covered in about ten different outfits he’d already tried on. No way was he continuing to behave like the teenage idiot in a chick-flick. His current outfit would just have to do. 

He pulled on his jacket over the steel grey button-down he’d waffled back and forth over, picked up the bouquet of roses he’d bought on the way home--because Oliver wanted a real date and Connor was not about to do things by halves--and walked out the door. 

It went over perfectly-of course it did, Connor may be a man of fast-paced seduction, but he still knew how to put on the charm for a hell of a date. Oliver opened the door and froze at the sight of Connor smirking behind two dozen roses. Then he blushed a charming shade of red and smiled wide as he accepted them and led Connor inside. 

“You didn’t have to get me these.” Oliver said, utterly failing to hide how happy he was that Connor brought him flowers. Connor just smiled, satisfied at the reaction. 

“It’s a date, of course you get flowers.” He watched Oliver fill a vase with water and fuss over the flowers. Oliver look good. Very good. Dark slacks that hugged everything just right and a pale blue button-down peeking out from under another of those damnably soft sweaters. “You look fantastic, by the way.”

And it was the return of the blush. Connor didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing Oliver a little flustered like this. Oliver abandoned the vase of roses and stepped close to Connor, eyes dark and cheeks still pink. His smile softened to a satisfied little curl of the lips and he looked Connor up and down. Something about it made Connor swallow, the room feeling a bit warmer, and Oliver made it up to his eyes once more. “You look pretty fantastic, yourself.” 

If Oliver was going to use a tone like that, they weren’t going to make it to dinner. Connor leaned in and kissed him, felt strong hands curl over his hips as Oliver tugged him closer and he sank his fingers into Oliver’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much. 

Oliver, the wonderful, sneaky bastard, nipped at Connor’s bottom lip, just hard enough to get a gasp and to take charge of the kiss, letting out a low groan that Connor could feel through his chest where they were pressed together. 

His hands were halfway up the back of Oliver’s shirt before he remembered they had somewhere to be. Reluctantly pulling away, stealing one last kiss as he did, Connor licked his lips and stepped back, feeling a little thrill as Oliver’s eyes watched his mouth closely. “We should get going. Unless of course, you want to skip dinner and go right to the best part.” 

Oliver nodded, smoothing down his clothes. “You’re right, we can just order dessert when we get there.” His face was carefully serious, but his eyes gave him away and Connor laughed. 

“You’re a real comedian. Let’s go before we’re late, you how they are, two minutes late and your table goes to any old bigwig CEO who waves a wallet around.” He waved a hand carelessly, as if he hadn’t fretted over the perfect place to go. Oliver didn’t need to know that.

Oliver snorted and shook his head. “If it’s a fifty-dollar-an-appetizer kind of place, I’m making you pay.”

“You’re the one who asked for a date!” Connor shot back, more amused than anything as they stepped out and Oliver locked his door. 

Oliver just gave him a smug look as he slipped a hand into Connor’s. “You’re the one who brought flowers.” 

Connor thought about it. “Damn, you’re right.” 

Laughing, Oliver tugged him into the elevator. “Promise it won’t break my wallet and I’ll pay. You can just look pretty and stare at me in the candle-light.”

Connor rubbed his thumb over Oliver’s knuckles, smiling at him as the he pressed the button for the lobby with his free hand. “I can do that.”


	11. No Mercy in Aisle 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt for 'grocery shopping' from one of the domesticity/intimacy memes. 
> 
> Connor discovers Oliver is a bit of a health nut and mourns the loss of his usual favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write! I myself take care to know what I eat and try to buy better versions of my favorite junk and I bet Oliver is the same way, while Connor probably has that effortless always-look-good-metabolism and ate whatever he wanted to. (and this is Oliver's turn to pay so he gets to make the final calls ;D)

Connor dropped a box of instant oatmeal into the cart and Oliver sighed, taking it back out and trading it for the organic version of the same flavor. Connor did that little half-sneer he got when something annoyed him. “Are you going to remove everything I put in there?”

Oliver just smiled and shrugged. “Depends, are you going to pick something that isn’t complete crap?”

“It’s oatmeal!”

“No, that’s corn syrup powder and artificial flavor mixed with oats to make it look healthy. This one is the same flavor and actually uses things that won’t kill you.”

Connor squinted at the contents of the cart suspiciously. “What the hell do you care?” 

Crossing his arms over the handle of the cart and leaning on it as he pushed it down the aisle, Oliver picked out a box of cereal and dropped it in absently. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to live past forty, and my family has a history of medical problems, including diabetes. Besides, it’s just better to eat healthy. I can afford to, so I do.”

“So you get to dictate what I eat too, now?” Connor grumped, and Oliver just shook his head, more amused than anything at Connor’s petulance. 

“My kitchen, my rules. You can buy whatever you want for your own place.” He added more to the cart, checking labels before dropping items in, and Connor wandered off for a few minutes, grumbling. When he came back though, hands full of fresh produce, Oliver noticed all of them had organic labels. 

Connor set them into the cart, making sure not to drop them too hard despite his expression of disdain. “I should buy nothing but pop tarts and pizza rolls. Make you eat them when you come over.”

Oliver laughed, nudging Connor’s shoulder with his. “You’d last two days tops before you came over to get me to cook. Don’t even pretend otherwise.” 

Connor rolled his eyes but there was hint of a smile now, and he hooked his fingers with Oliver’s for a moment before stepping away to pick up a bottle of juice. “Excuse you, I can make plenty of things. Spaghetti, toast, rice-a-roni, I even know how to steam vegetables.” His face was carefully snobbish but his eyes were bright with humor.

“Oh yes,” Oliver nodded seriously, “five-star restaurants have nothing on you. Now grab that jar of paprika, I’m all out.” 

Connor rolled his eyes but did as he was told and threw in a box of cookies with a look that just dared Oliver to protest. Grinning, Oliver let him get away with it, they were his favorite as well. He couldn’t be strict about _everything_. 

“Come on, hotshot, let’s get some ice-cream and make some sandwiches for dessert with the cookies.”

“Oh, is that allowed?” Connor asked, but he was already leading the way and Oliver waited until he was halfway down the frozen aisle to answer. 

“Make sure it’s the all-natural one!” 

Connor glared over his shoulder and Oliver gave him a wide grin. He sighed and grabbed the organic tub. “Goddamn it.”


	12. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt for one of the guys taking care of the other when they got sick. 
> 
> Oliver gets a bad cold and Connor isn't about to let him suffer alone.

Feeling bored and alone on the weekend was not something Connor enjoyed. So it wasn’t much past ten in the morning on a saturday that he called Oliver to see if the man had any plans he needed to change so he could spend time with Connor instead. 

Oliver didn’t pick up until the second time Connor called, and even over the phone, his voice sounded stuffy and miserable. “Connor, whatever it is… I’m really not up for it. Sorry.” He ended with a strained-sounding cough that had Connor wincing in sympathy. 

“I just wanted to talk. Did you catch the flu? You sound terrible.”

Another rough cough, and once he stopped, Oliver sounded grumpy. “Gee thanks, good to know I sound as crappy as I feel.” 

Connor found himself smiling, if Oliver could be sarcastic, then he couldn’t be _too_ sick. “It’s the truth. You want me to come over?”

Oliver snorted, then sniffled and Connor pulled the phone away to make a disgusted face at it before he pressed it to his ear again. “Not unless you want to spend the day with me and my germs. You can bring over ginger drops and vapo-rub and hold my hair if I vomit. It’ll be a real party.” 

“Just what I wanted on a Saturday, the stench of sick-man sweat and menthol. I’ll wear my sexy underwear.” 

That got him a wet laugh. “Shut up. I hate you and your not-sick face.”

“You love my face.” 

There was a muffled thump and a miserable groan. “Ugh, booty-call me when I’m not gross and dying.”

Connor bit back a laugh. “I dunno, can I get the flu by blowing you?” He asked with false innocence.

Oliver’s laugh was more of a hacking wheeze, but it was obvious he was amused even if he cursed Connor for it and hung up. Connor just slipped his phone into his pocket with a chuckle and headed out. He had a few things to pick up. 

…………………..

When some horrible person began knocking on Oliver’s door, he refused to move, sprawled face down on his bed where he’d been since Connor called. There had been a vague hope that playing dead would trick his throbbing headache into leaving him alone if he lay still for long enough. Not such luck so far. 

The obnoxious knocking wasn’t helping either, and the only thing Oliver could be thankful for in that moment was the fact that he didn’t have a doorbell for whoever it was to ring. _God_ , he thought, _guardian of the sick and dying, please strike down on the asshat that thought banging on an ailing man’s door at ten-thirty on a saturday morning was in any way a good idea._

Sadly, there was no smiting to be had, and after a few minutes it became clear whoever it was wasn’t going to leave until he answered, Oliver dragged himself out of bed with all the coordination of a drunken spider, feeling like he had too many limbs yet not enough to hold him upright. Glancing forlornly at his empty tissue box, he shoved his glasses onto his face and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The shirt was already damp with sweat, what was a little snot added in? 

Maybe looking as gross as he felt would scare off his unwanted visitor. One could only hope. 

He opened the door, saw Connor looking disgustingly perfect and promptly shut it again. “I’m not home.” 

“You literally just opened the door.” Connor sounded more amused than anything and Oliver dropped his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He should have know, there was only one person who showed up unannounced and was determined enough to knock for five minutes straight. 

“No I didn’t.”

“You’re talking to me right now.” 

Oliver leaned further against the door, pressing the side of his face to the cool surface and wondering if the floor would be comfortable to collapse on. Probably not. He considered opening the door again, then remembered exactly how gross he felt and no, nope, not today. 

“Come on, Oliver,” Connor said, after Oliver apparently took too long to answer, “I even brought vapo-rub and chicken soup.” 

Oliver cracked open the door and squinted out at Connor, who held up a plastic bag in proof. “Chicken soup?”

Connor smiled that crooked grin. “And saltines. Now are you going to let me in?”

“I’m all sick and gross.” He was already opening the door wider though, and Connor looked him up and down before stepping inside.

“Yes, you are. Lucky for you, I like you enough to risk the germs. Now shut up and let me feed you soup and rub this goop on your chest like were eighty-five.”

Oliver just blinked slowly at him, still holding the door open as Connor made himself at home unpacking his purchases at the kitchen table and pulling out bowls and spoons for the soup. Despite the body aches and the throbbing head, and the vague nausea, Oliver found himself smiling when he finally shut the door. He made his unsteady way to Connor and mashed a wet kiss to Connor’s cheek, which he looked equally charmed and disgusted by.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Connor rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he pressed a new box of tissues into Oliver’s hands. “Well, now I’m definitely going to get sick, so you can pay me back by taking care of me in a couple days. Now shoo, away zombie, let me get you some soup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write! And I have to say that I am so excited about all the new Connor/Oliver fics I see in the archives! Everyone is so awesomely talented and it's such a pleasure to read through them. :D 
> 
> I have no idea how long it'll take for Oliver and Connor to resolve things in the show, but until then, I've got some cotton candy fluff-making to do! As always, feel free to drop by my tumblr (paper-kraken.tumblr.com) to chat or toss me a prompt!


	13. Haunted Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor drags Oliver with him and the crew to a haunted house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I took some time off writing to enjoy my birthday and here's a little warm-up ficlet to get me back in the mindset. Also, I can't go without a Halloween fic! :D

Oliver stared up at the dark, ominous house looming in front of them and wondered for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing here. Just because Connor’s group of friends all wanted to go the the state’s scariest haunted house didn’t mean that Oliver wanted to get dragged into it too. 

Next to him Connor smirked and waved off Wes and Laurel who were going in together. Before them had been Michaela and her fiance, and before that, Asher had been the first to go through. They’d heard him screaming ten seconds in. Oliver resigned himself to being mocked later, he hated haunted houses. Well, maybe ones made for little kids was okay, those looked fake and it was easy to laugh it all off, but these horror-show realistic ones? He never could quite shake the paranoia that one of the people in there with knifes and chainsaws and whatever else would turn out to be an actual murderer.

“You ready? They’re sending us in.” Connor asked, smirking a bit because of course it was obvious Oliver was nervous, and of course Connor was teasing him about it. The jerk. 

Oliver glared at him and laced their fingers together. “If you let go, you’re sleeping alone for a week.” 

Connor just winked and gave Oliver’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Sure thing. Now come on.”

As it turned out, Connor’s brave face only lasted until a girl crawled down a wall and breathed in his ear, pinpoints of red glowing out of her hollow eyes, and he shrieked like a banshee. Oliver was so caught off guard he screamed as well, then his fright dissolved into laughter. They both jumped and clung to each other throughout the house, but Connor’s voice hitting a pitch Oliver never thought possible had him snorting with laughter each and every time. 

By the time they stumbled out, Connor was twitchily looking around for any more scares and Oliver was clutching his aching sides with his free hand. Straightening up, he wiped away his laughter tears and pressed his forehead to Connor’s shoulder as the last of his chuckles petered out. 

He patted Connor’s chest when his boyfriend grumped and huffed. “You liar. You lied like a dirty lying rug. You said you weren’t scared of haunted houses.” Grinning when COnnor angrily crossed his arms, but pointedly kept Oliver’ hand in his own, Oliver tugged the diot a little closer for a kiss on the cheek. “You scream like a stepped on cat.”

Laurel and Wes wandered over, while Asher, Michaela and Aiden seemed to be rehashing their scariest moments dramatically a little further away. “That was _you_? I thought that was some kind of recording, scared us more than the house did!” Laurel said, a wide grin on her face. 

Wes bit down on his own grin. “And here I thought Asher was bad. That boy screams like a five-year-old.”

Connor sneered at everyone. “I hate all of you. Every single one.” 

Oliver patted him on the shoulder with a smile. “No, you love me. You can hate them if you want to, but you totally love me. You want to have my babies and everything.”

Connor just rolled his eyes heavenward while Laurel and Wes offered possible baby names, the next set of haunted-house-victims screaming in the background.


	14. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is not even a real chapter, it's so short, but it's been ages since I wrote anything with these two, and I'm dipping my toes back in. Have some cute to go with the reappearance of Oliver on the show! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GIGANTIC THANK YOU to all of you who pressed that kudos button or was nice enough to take the time to leave a comment. I love you all and every single comment makes my day a hundred times better!

“This right here, this is not helping me concentrate.” 

Connor just smirked and kept on humming softly to the song playing from the stereo. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, not when Oliver’s complaint was absolutely ruined by his tone, which was far too warm and content to sound annoyed. “You’re the one who said being up and moving helped you think.”

Oliver smiled, Connor could feel the curve of it against his shoulder and peeked out of one eye to see it. Doctor’s recommended a bit of sunshine every day, right? “I meant a walk or a quick stretch, not slow dancing all pressed up against my boyfriend. This just makes me want to work less, not more.”

“Sounds good to me, you spent our whole date working.” Connor sniffed, arching his eyebrow just so. 

Oliver returned it with a flat look. “Inviting yourself over to steal my leftovers and watch my movies isn’t a date, Connor.”

“It would have been if you’d joined in, you ass.” 

They kept up the step-and-sway easy motion as they bickered, Oliver’s hands pressed against Connor’s back and Connor’s arms looped around Oliver’s waist. He could feel the rise and fall of Oliver’s chest when he laughed, bright and open, and snuck his hands under Oliver’s ridiculously comfortable sweater to settle on warm skin. 

The music changed to a soft jazz song and this time it was Oliver who hummed along with it, pressing their foreheads together as they swayed in time with the rhythm. He never did get back to his project.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and claim nothing but the idea and arrangement of words to make up this story. How To Get Away With Murder belongs to it's respective ownerships and standard disclaimers apply.


End file.
